


Better

by xelly



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22263007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xelly/pseuds/xelly
Summary: Aelin is no stranger in killing people, in getting rid of thorns on her side. She just wishes she had other options to resort to, ones that didn't cause an scandal in her kingdom.At least she will get some pleasure from this.Or: in which Aelin needs to kill someone and goes back to the Assassin's Guild.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	Better

**Author's Note:**

> This has been going around my head for months now and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. And no, I don't have context for it either.

Aelin got off the carriage on silent feet. The streets were deserted, save for two ladies walking arm in arm, far enough that they wouldn't be able to discern her face or her eyes. And with the loose hair, the incriminating points of her ears were concealed. 

She adjusted her cloak with one hand, with the other she gestured towards the driver to go away. Still trembling and a little pale after Aedion swore him to silence, he didn't hesitate to snap the reins and leave as fast as he could. Smart man. 

Aelin then raised her chin and walked the stone path towards the manor that had been her home for almost nine years. 

It was the same as in her memories, save for the off feeling. Something was wrong with the place. Different now that Arobynn wasn't stalking inside anymore, the conniving snake. Either way, she walked up to the front door, mindful of the hidden eyes watching her. 

Throwing a wink at them for good measure, she knocked twice, clear and precise. Not much time later, light steps came closer from the inside. A pretty servant, not much older than Aelin herself, opened the door, looking up at her with big, brown eyes. Eyes that filled with dread as she recognized her eyes. 

“Is anyone home?” Aelin asked, a mischievous little grin in her lips. 

This wasn't something she enjoyed to do, scaring people shitless. It wasn't the same anymore, not when they were afraid of her position and not _her_. But she had to admit it got her to places, and it got work done faster. 

The serving girl opened the door with shaky hands and let her in. People don't deny the Queen of Terrasen, even in Adarlan. Once Aelin was in the foyer and the door was closed, she dropped into a deep bow. It was hard, not reacting, even years after her coronation. Yet she kept her face bland. 

“You may rise.” The girl obeyed, but her eyes didn't meet Aelin's. Either way, she gave her what she hoped was a comforting smile before saying, “I'm here to see Tern. I'm an old friend, you see.” 

If possible, the girl's face went another shade pale. But she nodded and bowed again, before running off. Poor little thing. 

Alone, she glanced around the foyer and the limited view of the living room. She took advantage of not having eyes on her to drink in the details, the walls and rugs and furniture, the same ones she'd seen the last time. Lacking the luxurious air about them. This place had become a tomb, a mausoleum gathering dust and cracks. How Arobynn must be roiling in his grave. All his work—and it amounted to nothing. He was little more than an old name, soon to be forgotten. 

That brought her peace, even though a little bit. 

Footsteps came her way, two sets of them. Aelin steeled her spine and lifted her chin, regal and imposing. When Tern and Harding came into view, they realized that this might be their home, but she was in charge now. And were wise enough to fear her. 

A secretive grin split her mouth, but she didn't say a word. Not as they shared a look, not as they bowed low for her. This, she did not mind. She let them stay like that for longer than necessary. 

“You may rise.” They did, casting glances around, as if someone—say, one of her blood-sworn warriors—was about to jump on them. “I'm alone, if that's what you're wondering.”

That, of course, wasn't all that comforting. 

“In what might we be of assistance, Your Majesty?” Tern clipped, out of disgust or fear, Aelin didn't know or care. 

“I have a business proposition for you.” He startled. “But we should not discuss it in the foyer, I think.” 

As if remembering themselves, they gestured awkardly for her to follow them. One didn't make a queen follow you, even if she's in your house. Even if you heard her throw tantrums as a child. But Aelin didn't mind as long as they felt the stress and wondered what she would do about it. 

Harding opened the door for her and let her go in first. At least they hadn't lost their domestication since their master died. It was good to know she wasn't striking a deal with complete savages. She walked inside without a second glance, simply going to stand in the same spot Arobynn had beat her into oblivion so many years ago. 

Tern went to the other side of his desk, Harding going to stand behind him. A small concession she allowed him to make, to be in a position of control, even if her presence alone sucked all pretenses of it. 

“I must admit that I still miss that carpet, it is a shame it was ruined. It's a shame you couldn't find a proper replacement.” No one answered. Good. “But alas, that's not what I came here for. Shall we take a seat?” 

The men shared a worried glanced but obeyed her. Smart. Aelin monitored them before sitting in one of the armchairs, the way they kept their hands within reach of their weapons even if they knew better than that. Instinct perhaps. But again, she let them have their false sense of security. 

The study fell into a tense silence. 

Aelin leaned back on her chair and stayed still for a while, in the way only the Fae could. Tern watched her like an aso ready to strike. It felt far too good. 

“It's been a while,” she said at last. 

“Indeed.” 

“I see someone's missing for this little meeting. Where is Mullin?” 

Harding tensed and she knew she found a nerve. “He died when the witches sacked the city,” he said tightly.

She clicked her tongue. “Pity.” But there wasn't an ounce of honesty in her words. Good riddance. 

Harding was trying his best not to glare daggers at her. And failing. 

“What do we owe the pressure, Your Majesty?” intervened Tern when she didn't look away from Harding. 

At that, she let out an elegant laugh. And smirked at him. “Please, Tern, don't be ridiculous. I grew up here, you might call me Aelin. Call me Celaena if it makes you feel better.”

He didn't do such a thing. Only uttered, “What are you doing here?” 

To the point. Aelin would've appreciated hadn't she been so content toying with him. “I come from Eyllwe, and before going back to Orynth, I thought I might stay here for a while. For old time's sake. Figured it wouldn't hurt to come visit, see how you're holding up after—” a grim look around the decrepit place “—everything.” 

“After you took everything from us and then made us give you more?” Harding spat. 

She crossed her legs and tilted her head to the side as she watched him. “Still hurt by that? Living in the past never helped anyone, dear.” 

Tern shot his second-in-command a look of warning. The scent of his fear slammed into her not a second later. Perfect. 

“We had a rough time,” he informed her, ever the diplomat, even if the hatred in his eyes was clear as water. “After we payed for the Guild and the properties, we had nothing left to lay the maid and the guards, no funds to invest and no investors.” 

Of course, she had been the one to ensure it. 

“How do you think,” hissed Harding, “that Arobynn died in a house full of his assassins?”

“A shame to hear.” 

“You little—” 

“ _Enough_ ,” barked Tern. 

The other man shut up immediately, his back going ramrod straight. 

Aelin watched with unmasked amusement. “Like a dog on a leash. Impressive.” 

“Say what is it that you want.” 

Her eyes focused on the King of Assassins, nothing of her humor to be found. It was his turn to stay still, to fight the flinch. 

“Do _not_ give me an order again.” 

The men in front of her seemed to hold their breath, waiting for her to move next. But she didn't, not for a while at least. Because this was like pulling teeth, but it was also very pleasing and she wanted to make the most of whatever enjoyment was to be had. 

“The lords of Terrasen didn't want me to be queen,” she began, because she was also on a tight schedule. “It was wasn't until after the war that I managed to sway enough votes in my favor. But there are still many who oppose to my birthright to rule. And who I find… considerably problematic.” 

“And I'm supposing you want them to disappear,” Tern finished.

Aelin grinned. “Of course not, but it would make life easier, don't you think?” 

The King of the Assassins stayed silent. She gave him a long, unreadable look. 

“I stopped being an assassin years ago, and even if I'm still just as capable, my face is recognizable, and it would complicate things for me to involve myself like that. That is what I want to avoid.” 

“And what if this information somehow becomes known?” mused Tern. 

It didn't faze her at all to find that the conniving bastard was living up to Arobynn's teaching. She put her arms on the armchairs and tilted her head to the side. 

“Well, that would make you rather lousy business partners. I don't think that's the reputation you want to build, especially after keeping your pretty, little heads afloat for so long.” The men's eyes flashed with fury. Try as they might to intimidate her, they would fail. “Besides, it might be complicated, but not impossible to get out of. I appreciate the discretion but I don't particularly need it.” 

“That's good, because once they know you've come here, it'll be quite easy to guess.” 

“For all they know, I'm in the castle with my mate right now, never left.” 

Lysandra of course was the one to make it happen. If the way they both tensed any indication, they understood that. 

“We don't like to get involved in politics,” said Tern.

It was a struggle not to roll her eyes. She foresaw he would come with some bullshit of this sort. And came prepared. 

She reached into the folds of her cloak for a pouch of coins. A heavy one. All gold pieces. Tern watched her every movement, they way she stood and dropped it on his desk, then leaned towards him. 

“There is more of where it came from,” she said lowly. His eyes were nearly glowing. “I thought your love for money would outweight your sudden hate of politics.” 

Aelin knew she had him when he snatched the pouch and opened it to find shining gold inside. She allowed the tiniest curl of her lips. 

Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed Harding tensing and focused her attention on him. His nose was pinched in disgust. 

“What is it that has you on such a uncomfortable state?” she asked sweetly, a light tilt of her head. 

He didn't answer, she didn't look away. She stood again upright, still staring him down. It was kind of impressive, actually, how he didn't waver. Not many men were capable of that. But she had enough of it. 

“Speak,” she ordered. Not even him could ignore the command of a queen. 

“Arobynn gave you everything,” he said through gritted teeth, “and yet you killed him. And still have the nerve to show your face again.” 

“I didn't kill Arobynn.” A smirk. “I only let Lysandra do it for me.” 

Harding snarled at her, showing his yellowed teeth. Even Tern, the most level-headed of the two let some of his anger show. 

“Double-faced viper,” the second in command hissed. 

“Arobynn would be pleased to hear that, _he_ taught me after all,” she mused. “I suppose you should feel proud, too. I learned from you as well. You taught me to play the game. And I won.

“I thought you had, for a while.” Aelin hummed to herself. “I mean, killing Sam, helping with all that business with Rourke. Honestly, a smart move. Without me and him, you were a step closer to the prize. But I do wonder—I wonder if Arobynn ever told you what his true plans were when it came to me. If you knew his goal was never to kill me but to break me. Enough that I would claim the name he made me hate for so long.”

Their closed off expressions told her more than they believed. She threw her head back a thrilled a sharp, mocking laugh. 

“Arobynn would've crowned himself King of Terrasen while I was nothing but his puppet. And for you, _this_.” She gestured around, to the falling house around them. “The scraps and nothing else. So don't be so upset, this was all you were going to get anyway. I just made you get it faster.” 

Both of the men turned to stone. She gave them a small smirk and rearranged her cloak again, throwing her hair behind her shoulder. 

“I'll give you the rest of the details tomorrow. Payment after it is done, if you don't get caught. And if you say a word about it, I'll make Rourke look like a innocent maiden.”

She went to the door, ready to put an end to it. Tern's voice drew her short.

“Why?” 

Aelin stayed quiet for a moment, her back to the men. She clenched her jaw before answering in a lethal quiet, “Because Sam was kind and good. Better than any of us. And Arobynn killed him because he touched something he believed his. Because he sent me to Endovier.” She threw a look at them over her shoulder, grinning, her canines showing like a promise. “Besides, wars are expensive and I needed to pay for armies.” 

“You were never his heir, were you?” 

Aelin chuckled to herself and left without saying anything else.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Thanks for reading!


End file.
